


Risks & Improv

by TheNatureKing



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNatureKing/pseuds/TheNatureKing
Summary: What happens on the stage stays on the stage, right?When Mark and Haechan perform, the only thing the audience should see between them is chemistry and genuine love and affection for the other. And when the director yells "CUT!",  Mark and Haechan are supposed to tell each other good job, compliment each other's acting, and then go about their separate ways. Nowhere in the script does it say "Fall in love with your co-actor/best friend, and take those feelings home with you" but I guess that's just what they call Improv. And admitting that love for each other seems like the biggest risk neither of the two are ready to make.





	1. R is for: Realize the problem.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. This is a "repost" from my tumblr.

**** “I mean, you’re…  _ you _ .” Haechan waved a hand at the general splendour of him—including his ramen noodle hair despite the number of times he said it looked stupid. “You could have anyone you want.”

A soft, if slightly incredulous, smile crossed Mark’s pink lips. He caught Haechan’s gesturing hands, bringing them to his lips, drawing them closer. 

“I want  _ you _ . If I can have anyone I want, don’t you think I should get to have you, hm?”

Haechan managed to nod dumbly. He swallowed. He could hear the squeals and giggles from the audience and felt his breathing began to pick up.

“Uh…” Haechan mumbled, awestruck at Mark’s attractiveness and improvisation at the same time.  _ Damn, what was supposed to happen next in the scene? _ Mark held his “sincere” gaze but his smirk grew larger the longer Haechan remained speechless.

“ _ CUT!” _ the teacher’s shrill voice interrupted. “What the hell was that, Donghyuck?”

Haechan groaned, (reluctantly) pulling his hands from Mark’s and cupping his own face. “Ugh, I know! But Mark threw me off by deviating away from the script.”

Mark shrugged innocently. “I couldn’t help it. I felt like that was something my character would’ve done in that moment.”  _ Bullshit and lies.  _ Mark knew it too if his subtle wink directed at Haechan was anything to go by. The annoying thing was that he got away with it.  _ The cheeky bastard. _

Doyoung nodded. “In this industry, improvisation is the one fundamental that’ll save your career, Haechan,” the man said. “Good job on your end, Mark. Everything was very fluid.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“As for you Haechan, you have to learn to be flexible. To adapt to things that are thrown your way. And most importantly, you have to take risks on the stage because  _ that’s _ how stars are born.” Doyoung looked at the clock and then clapped his hands together. “Alright. It’s four o’ clock. You can all leave now. Don’t forget to practice your lines at home. Your first examinations are Monday. Now go enjoy your weekend!”

At his dismissal, Haechan wasted no time leaving, as per usual. He hopped off the stage, grabbed his bag, and in less than two minutes he was out the auditorium doors. 

_ This time _ , however, he wasn’t alone.

“So,” Mark said gleefully hot on his trail, “that was fun, right?”

Haechan rolled his eyes. Why did he have to get paired with Canadian Bacon Boy off all people?

“Sure was, bud,” Haechan responded dryly. It was  _ almost  _ like sarcasm never left the crevices of his mouth. 

“Aww, don’t be like that,” Mark teased, trying to keep up with the shorter boy’s pace. “It was just a little improv—”

Haechan stopped walking and spun on his heel. Mark nearly trampled over him. There he was, the blonde, ramen-noodle head bombshell all up in his personal space with the only thing separating their lips being Haechan’s height, or  rather, lack thereof, and Haechan’s inability to take risks. 

Mark’s face was unreadable. He was probably just wondering what Haechan was going to do?  _ Take a risk maybe? Nah, he was too scared for that _ .

“A-are you going to Yeri’s birthday party tonight?” Haechan asked, and  _ damn why did his voice have to crack like that _ ?

Luckily, Mark didn’t notice.

Mark snorted.

Okay, so maybe he noticed a teeny bit. But he didn’t tease him and that was better than nothing.

“Yeah. Do you need a ride,  _ Haechan _ ?” Mark  purred asked, smirk reappearing from the ashes like a graceful ramen-noodle head phoenix.

Haechan nearly melted at the way Mark said his name. Oh, what he would do to hear that again.

“Yeah. Pick me up at seven?” It wasn’t much of a question as it was a command, but Haechan was too confused to determine if that actually made sense. 

“See you then,” Mark said.

Haechan sent a final glare up at him for the time being—one last attempt of control over the situation—before spinning back around and heading on his way. His cheeks were in no way shape or form flushed. Thank God he had a beautiful melanin-rich skin tone that protected his cheeks from revealing such that. 

Mark stood there smiling, waiting until his best friend disappeared around a corner. Maybe he’s getting there, he thought. Maybe. 


	2. I is for: Initiate thy plan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After tonight, Mark googles: ways to propose to your best friend.

Who was this girl and what did she do with the real Kim Yerim?

Haechan and Mark watched the dark-haired girl, their friend of almost five years, in awe as she took turning up to a whole new level. She climbed up on a table, an unknown liquid beverage hand, and began swaying breezily to the beat of a fitting Selena Gomez song.

“ _Tell them that it’s my birthday when I party like that~_ ” she sang dazzling. A small crowd gathered around her and cheered her on, whooping and hollering at her impromptu performance.

Haechan and Mark watched from a distance. They sat in the corner of the living room on Yeri’s couch, nursing their drinks slowly.

“Should we do something about… _that_?” Mark asked, mimicking Haechan from earlier by gesticulating with his hand in her general direction. Haechan was too distracted to make the connection.

“Hm?” Haechan mumbled halfheartedly. His mind was somewhere else, his gaze directed into the contents of his cup.

“Yo, Haechan.” Mark nudged him with his elbow. Haechan, still a bit dazed, looked up and met Mark’s dark eyes and _holy shit why the hell were they so close?_ Their thighs and arms were nearly glued together. He could smell Mark’s body wash rolling off of him in waves. It made him weak.

“Are you okay?,” Mark asked, leaning in closer. “You’re not coming down with anything, are you?” He placed the back of his palm on Haechan’s forehead. “Wow, you’re hot.”

Haechan wanted to strangle him and kiss him at the same time, the stupid idiot.

Snapping back to his senses, Haechan swatted Mark’s hand away and scooted away (regrettably) in mock disgust. “Ew, don’t touch me with those hands. I don’t know where they’ve been,” he said. He took another sip of his coke. Was there a/c in this goddamn house?

Mark raised a brow and chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Nowhere your hands haven’t been, I’m sure,” Mark said, raising his own cup to his plush lips, curled up at the corners. Haechan watched his Adam’s apple bob with each gulp as Mark downed the whole thing. He smacked his lips in satisfaction when he was done and then suddenly leaned forward again and burped.

“Oh, you’re so fucking disgusting,” Haechan said, shoving him back (playfully). He stood up and made his way to the crowd, ignoring Mark’s (heartwarming) fit of laughter.

After finishing Russian Roulette, Yeri begged some random people in the crowd to hop up on the table and do some karaoke with her. Of course, when the first drum of Beyonce’s Halo was heard, her eyes landed on Haechan who was hiding away at the back. Her face lit up immediately.

“Haechan!” she yelled into her mic causing everyone to flinch. “Oops, sorry,” she whispered but nobody really minded though. “Haechan, you gotta get up here. This is our song. This is _your_ song!”

The crowd giggled at that and Haechan really wanted to just end himself right there on the spot. Seriously, Yeri? What good friend would out him like that? With everyone looking at him, however, some whispering, “ _who’s that kid?_ ”, he felt an obligation to prove himself to them. Cheeks blushing—but you couldn’t tell unless you looked closely, like Mark-all-up-in-your-face-closely—Haechan squeezed his way through the crowd, mentally thinking of ways to get payback on the birthday girl. Surprisingly, strangers he didn’t even know slapped him on the back and cheered him on. That felt good at least.

The table wobbled when he hopped on and suddenly his life was flashing before his eyes. Omg, there was still so much he hadn’t done in life before like… idk…kiss Mark, marry Mark, grow old and die with Mark, and so much more things that involved Mark and himself. But before he knew it, two seconds had passed and Yeri had her hand on his arm, stabilizing him.

He laughed stiffly. The look of terror on his face had the crowd dying.

“Aww, he’s so cute,” some random girl cooed.

It was Yeri’s angelic voice that silenced everyone. “ _Remember those walls I built_ ,” she started, her vocal range flowing through the notes effortlessly. With each progressing verse she sang, world peace seemed a bit more achievable. Haechan along with the crowd held their breaths as if by them breathing, they would somehow disrupt the tranquil atmosphere Yeri had brought among them.

“ _Standing in the light of your halo,_ ” Yeri looked at him. Why was she looking at him like that? “ _I’ve got my angel now_.”

_Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Freeze frame. Record stop._

He wasn’t ready. Haechan was not yet adequately prepared. He was too busy drooling over Yeri’s voice to even clear his throat yet. What if his voice cracked? What if he was flat? That would be so embarrassing. He nearly held up his hand to tell her to continue when an annoying, shrill voice echoed in his head.

“...You have to learn to be flexible. To adapt to things that are thrown your way. And most importantly, you have to take risks on the stage because _that’s_ how stars are born…”

Even at times like this, Doyoung was still coaching him.

Haechan had this. He could do this. He hadn’t spent years belting this song eloquently at silly sleepovers, in thirty-minute showers, or simply on his morning walk to school all to just fuck it up in one night. He could sing this song in his sleep. Yeri was right. This was _his_ song. He couldn’t disappoint.

The performer in him took over.

“ _It’s like I’ve been awakened_ ,” he sang, surprised his voice had come out strong, stable, _and on key_ right from the jump. The crowd must have expected him to be monotone or something because not one jaw was saved from hitting the floor. He finished off the pre-chorus with vigor and Yeri joined him for the chorus. The rest of the song was a pleasant surprise of harmonization and amazing chemistry between the two singers. Without skipping a beat, Yeri provided amazing ad-libs while Haechan maintained the foundation. She was even generous enough to let Haechan sing the really long “Halo” part—his favorite.

After the performance, Yeri and Haechan hugged while the crowd roared and gave a thunderous applause.

“You were great,” Yeri said, giving him a tight squeeze.

“Thanks, and you were, too,” Haechan responded. With the positive ovation, Haechan felt like he could conquer the world. He looked over the crowd, silently thanking whoever made eye contact with him. _Was that the girl who called him cute crying?_ His eyes drifted back to the area where he’d left his pop and found Mark staring at him, face blank. _Was he okay? What was he thinking?_ _Did he like the performance?_

Mark was definitely not okay. But when Haechan came over and told him he was ready to leave, he didn’t complain. It was either that or drink himself into a coma to get rid of the swarm of feelings that had invaded his mind when Haechan grabbed the mic.

“You’re a really great singer,” Mark had said on their drive to Haechan’s place. It was the first meaningful words either of the two had spoken to each other since leaving the party.

“I know,” is what Haechan wanted to say, but the banter died at his lips and revived itself as a sincere “Thank you.”

Mark coughed and cleared his throat along with some of the heavy tension. He was going to regret this. Maybe.

“You should sing at our wedding,” Mark said nonchalantly. “People would love it.” A small smile tugged at his lips and thank God for it because Haechan almost _—almost_ —thought he was serious.

“You’d have to pay me fat stacks to act in that role,” Haechan responded, forcing a laugh.

Mark wanted to strangle him and kiss him at the same time, the stupid idiot.


	3. S is for: Surprise the Enemy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was younger, Mark beat up anybody who made fun of his hair. It's a sensitive topic for him.

When they were little and hosted sleepovers for each other, Haechan and Mark would spend Saturday mornings in bed watching cartoons, playing video games, and gossiping. Nowadays, the two spent their Saturdays apart with Haechan in his own bed and Mark in his, though they still managed to find a way to even do that time together.

“You up?” Haechan had texted at eight in the morning because he had always been a light sleeper and that was around the time his mom left for work..

Mark responded immediately. “Yup.”

Within minutes, their morning texts had turned into a morning Facetime.

Haechan sat on the floor, leaning against his bed with a bowl of cereal in his lap. Cartoons played on his small tv but his focus was on the even smaller screen containing the ramen-noodle head boy he had come to love. As a good friend, that was.

Truth be told, Haechan loved seeing Mark with his sleepy bedhead. It was like witnessing a side of him that no one else had access to. There was no point in sugar-coating it; Mark was an attractive guy. He was damn near perfect if you asked Haechan. He knew he couldn’t keep the blonde to himself, so he cherished the little moments and the exclusivity that came with it. It was nice and one of the many perks of being Mark’s best friend that he didn’t let go to waste.

Sometimes, he wondered if Mark thought the same way as he did. Did Mark think there were perks to being Haechan’s friend? He wondered, but would never dare to ask. That was one risk that didn’t need to be cashed in. 

Unbeknownst to him, Mark  _ did _ think the same way that Haechan did. Mark loved Haechan with his swollen morning face because his cheeks looked even more pinchable. And kissable if he might add. He adored how Haechan, a bit self-conscious with his public appearance, let Mark see him eat like a pig and didn’t care. He actually loved how much Haechan loosened up when there weren’t an extra pair of eyes watching them. 

It was crazy to think how their daily habits wouldn’t be too much different if they were to start dating. There’d just be a little more… love and affection thrown into the mix.

Mark had been thinking about that a lot lately actually. 

_ What would it be like to be in a relationship with Donghyuck? What would it be like to marry Mr. Lee Donghyuck?  _

They already had the same last name so it wasn’t like someone could come and say that either one of their married names was invalid because it technically had never changed. The way he looked at it, the universe had cut a few corners when it made them soulmates. They were good to skip the whole back-and-forth debating about whose last name sounded better. All they needed to focus on were the wedding vows, “I do’s”, and one big, fat, juicy—

“Cherry Bomb!!” Haechan shouted, causing Mark to jump.

“Kiss?” Mark mumbled. “Uh, I mean, what?”

Haechan pretended not to hear his strange fumble and proceeded to explain to him how Doyoung sneakily announced on Twitter what the summer festival play would be. “It’s Cherry Bomb,” Haechan explained. “You know, that play that Doyoung co-wrote with that Japanese writer, Yuta. Yuta Nakamochi or something, I don’t know. I just can’t believe he got it approved. We’ve never performed an original play at the summer festival before, have we?”

Mark fake-thought about it before shaking his head. A small smile graced his features as he watched Haechan freak out, down his cereal milk, and then freak out some more.

“Are you going to say something or just stare at me like you’re—”

“—Like I’m what?” Mark leaned into his camera.. _ Like I’m in love, maybe? _

“Like you’re having an existential crisis,” Haechan finished. He got up to go throw his bowl in the sink and  _ no _ , Mark swears he did not see Haechan in a pair of boxers or his beautiful, exposed legs, a shade lighter than the rest of his body. When Haechan returned and  _ yup _ , that’s exactly what he saw, Mark couldn't help but comment on it.

“Do you shave Haechan?” Mark was seriously, but not to the point where his tone was insinuating of anything. Regardless, it still came off as weird to Haechan.

“Um… no?” Haechan lied. “Why?” Suddenly feeling ballsy, Haechan extended one of his legs out towards the camera. “Does it look like I do?” he mock pouted. He ran his fingers down his leg and up again, poking the flesh of his thigh.

Mark licked his lips. Were Haechan’s legs of all the things really doing things to him? No, he was too old for this shit. He shut his eyes and willed an awkward moment of embarrassment away. 

Happy thoughts.  _ Haechan. _ No!  _ Gross  _ thoughts. Old grandmas taking baths with their dogs.  _ Yeah _ . That was gross. That would work.

“Are you ok?”

Mark peeked an eye open and remembered that it was a two-way connection and that he could be seen. He probably looked constipated or something. However, nasty grandma covered in wet dog hair did the trick because Haechan’s leg was miraculously back under his comforter.

“A-are you,” Mark cleared his throat. ‘Do you wanna meet up and practice our lines today? There’s still a part I’m a bit shaky on.”

Haechan rolled his eyes. At the end of the day, Mark was still an overachiever. 

“Yeah, alright, noodle boy.” Haechan’s eyes widened as soon as he said it. “Sorry! You weren’t…  supposed to hear that.... Haha…”

Mark took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Don’t think I won’t get you back for that,  _ H. _ ”

And then he hung up.

Haechan laughed to himself again and prayed for whatever God there was to have mercy on his soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *old, just getting fic up to date on ao3.


	4. K is for: Kill them with kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys will be boys.

“Oh, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen your room so… clean,” Haechan’s mom said in awe, resting against his door frame.

Haechan poked his head out of his closet and gave her a goofy grin. “What do you mean? My room is always clean.”

She scoffed at that one. _Funny_ . “Well, anyway, I’m off _back_ to work. I have to cover Gretchen’s shift,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Her working two shifts a day was nothing new to Haechan but it still made his stomach churn guiltily. He had started looking for jobs that were close enough near home. He wanted to pitch in, too..

“But, tell Mark I said hello and that he’s welcome to stay the night if he wants.“

“Okay, see you when you get home. Bye, Mom, love you!”.

“Love you, too, sweetie!,” she called from downstairs.

Haechan went back to work organizing his closet but frowned when a thought occurred to him. _How did she know Mark was coming over?_

He chalked it up to that _woman’s intuition_ thing.

Mark arrived at Haechan’s moderately sized home just before seven and bearing gifts. His fist, suddenly an automatic weapon, knocked three times in short, rapid bursts. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly when he heard Haechan fumbling with the busted lock. It took the shorter a total of fifteen seconds to finally get it open. When the door swung open, Haechan felt his eyes water.

How could Mark Lee be so—

_Hot? Cute?_

—generous?!

“Awww, thanks for bringing him over in one piece,” Haechan said, reaching out to grab the bag of snacks from Mark’s arms. Mark happily handed them over before he stepped past Haechan (read: Haechan didn’t move out of the doorway so he squeezed past him) into the house.

Led to the kitchen by his nose, Mark’s suspicions were confirmed when he spotted the pot on the stove, still steaming and delicious. He felt his eyes water.

Mark brought his hand over his heart and mimicked Haechan’s same theatrics.  “Awww, Did you really cook spaghetti just for me?”

Haechan wavered under Mark’s puppy dog gaze but he shook his head. “No, my mom was craving some so I offered to make it. You can have some if you want, though.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. He didn’t believe him one bit but he was too hungry to press. Within moments, he was seated at Haechan’s table, helping himself to his _second_ plate of spaghetti.

Haechan felt a strong sense of pride and joy as he watched his breathing pride and joy devour his homemade pride and joy. It was so domestic— _too domestic_ —and it made Haechan’s heart hurt even more. Mark’s moans also made his heart hurt, but in totally different manner.

Like, seriously though, what was up with his noisy eating? Mark sounded like he was making love— _not eating_ —and while _that_ thought was a bit disturbing, he couldn’t help but still feel envious of the sauce and noodles, regardless of how embarrassing that would be to admit aloud. Haechan always imagined that when the time came, _if_ it ever came, he would hear Mark’s moaning in one of their bedrooms, but here he was, listening to the passionate “ _mmm’s_ ” in his own kitchen. Seemed wasteful.

“That was so good, Haechan.” Mark slid his plate in front of him, and reclined in his chair, patting his stomach. “Like, _so good_.”

Mark licked his lips, but there was still some spaghetti sauce at the corner of his mouth, just out of reach of his tongue. Without thinking, Haechan leaned forward.

“You’ve got a little…” he caught the bit of sauce with his thumb and then froze. What the hell was he doing in the first place and what the hell was he supposed to do with his sauce-slicked thumb now? _Lick it himself?_

Mark’s body initially tensed when Haechan brought his hand to his face because _what was this boy doing_? But he caught on quickly and watched with anticipation of his next move. Haechan’s sudden “stage fright” wasn’t surprising in the slightest though, so where Haechan stopped, Mark took over. Mark grabbed Haechan’s wrist and brought his hand back towards his mouth.

“I wasn’t done with that,” he said in a low voice, eyes twinkling. Haechan nearly squealed when soft, glossy lips wrapped around his thumb slowly and _sucked!_

_His heart was going to explode!_

Haechan couldn’t even think straight. ( _Haha, go figure._ ) Who was he again? Oh, yeah, the fantastic idiot, Lee Donghyuck. Was he still breathing? A bit fast, but yes. Was his thumb still in Mark’s mouth? _Oh, hell_ _no_ _yes._

When Mark pulled Haechan’s thumb out, it made a ‘pop’ noise. He examined his handy work momentarily before letting his hand go.

“ _Now_ , I’m done.” He stood up and took his plate to the sink, washing both that and his hands off.

Haechan stared at his glistening thumb longer than he should have before snapping out of it and hastily wiping it against his shirt.

“Why are you so nasty?”

He grabbed Mark’s bag of snacks (with the hand Mark sucked on) and headed to the stairway. “I’ll be upstairs when you’re done being a freak.”

“Moving to the bedroom, are we?” Mark snickered. A box of Skittles whizzed past his head.

“Keep it up, Mark Lee!” Haechan yelled from upstairs, out of sight where his barely noticeable blush couldn’t be seen at all.

Mark ripped open the box of candy and popped a few in.

“I can assure you,” Mark said in a large, booming grandpa-sounding voice fit only for the stage, “ _keeping it up_ is not a problem for me, young lad, even in this old age!”

He chuckled to himself. Who was Haechan trying to fool? They both knew Haechan liked Mark when he was freak-nasty.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm literally screaming re-reading this omg i wanted to take out so much lmfaoooo i stg this will never breach majorly nsfw territory XD


	5. S is for: Seal the deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened over the weekend?

It was Monday. Mondays sucked. Doyoung, the director of the performing arts, knew this, even if he was a big, stinking grown up (he was actually 25) who assigned excessive homework sometimes. He imagined that some of his students would enter the auditorium with a cold sweat because they failed to rehearse their lines for their first off book evaluation. He understood that perfectly well. He was once a teen, too, after all. What he couldn’t quite comprehend, however, was the disaster that unleashed on stage between his two best and two favorite actors. 

What the hell happened between Lee Donghyuck and Mark Lee over the damn weekend? 

Doyoung had a feeling something was up the second Haechan opened the doors to the auditorium and wasn’t greeted by an obnoxiously loud, but overly fond, “HI, HAECHANNIE! I MISSED YOU!” No, Mark didn’t say anything. In fact, he barely spared Haechan another glance after the initial one. His expression was unreadable for normal, untrained eyes, but for the eyes of a theatre director, his facade didn’t stand a chance. Nevertheless, knowing  _ what _ Mark was feeling wasn’t the question Doyoung wanted solved. It was  _ why? _

Haechan walked down the aisle,  _ walked past Mark _ , and took a seat next to a girl he rarely conversed with in the past. Even the girl was surprised, so much so that she asked Haechan if there was something wrong while sneaking a peek at Mark.

“Everything’s peachy,” Haechan said cooly. His poker face was superb, Doyoung had to give that to him. Or was that his cold-blooded murderer face?

The girl nodded and accepted his answer for what it was. It was clear she didn’t believe him for one second but what could she do? She barely knew Haechan and the last thing she would be able to do was to make him talk. Only two people could do that in this room. She stole another glance at Mark and then at the director himself. He sighed knowingly.

“Okay, class. I just  _ know  _ you prepared well for your first evaluation today—which is indeed off book,” he said, his smile growing with the volume of the groans. “Who wants to go first? Mar—”

Doyoung stopped himself. He nearly said, “Markhyuck”, the team name of the duo who didn’t seem to be on speaking terms at the moment. Normally they volunteered themselves first for anything and everything and if they didn’t, he chose them first anyway. Now, it just didn’t feel…  _ safe _ to say their group name aloud. The girl sitting next to Haechan reluctantly raised her hand and her partner whined.

“Perfect! Emiko and Yuna, we’re excited to see how much you have prepared for us!” He gave Emiko a thumbs up when she walked by. He’d have to give her bonus points for that.

The seconds ticked by. The total amount of performances dwindled down. And not once had Mark and Donghyuck looked at each other. Their determination and willpower were incredible, Doyoung noted. They kept their eyes trained on the stage the entire times. They were probably critiquing the actors and taking notes in their heads. Had they been sitting by each other like usual, they would have been whispering—against Doyoung’s Absolute Silence rule—to each other about what they observed. They adapted the things they liked and made sure to avoid the things they  _ didn’t _ in their own acting. Learning and teaching themselves. Like naturals. Like prodigies.

And now, there was nothing natural about their behaviors today. Doyoung couldn’t help but worry a little when the performers on the stage began to say their final lines. It had been a rough ride for the two—it was clear neither of them practiced—but they had the gist of their play down and acted it out mostly via improvisation. Of course, he would have to deduct points for that, but did what they had to do. He acknowledged that at the very least.

Clapping from the audience was more of a signal of foreboding than it was praise. He went down his clipboard for no reason as there was only one last group that had yet to perform before everyone went home.

“Ok. Last but not least. Mark and Donghyuck—you’re up. Let’s see what you guys have prepared for us.”

Haechan pushed himself up from the chair reminiscent of a tired, old man and climbed onto the stage from where he sat. Doyoung wanted to reprimand him for not using the stairs at the side and for practicing such improper theatre etiquette when he  _ knew _ the rules all because he had a little attitude, but what Mark had said before him rendered him speechless.

“I’m not performing,” Mark said. He remained sitting, eyes glued to his phone. How much quieter could an already quiet room get?

Haechan’s jaw fell.  _ What was this stupid idiot saying? _

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”

Doyoung thought he had said it, but there wasn’t an aftertaste of venom in his mouth. He looked over to Haechan and then back to Mark who had finally looked up from his phone. Their eyes were engaged in a tension-filled, blood gurgling, staring contest. Or maybe Doyoung was just being…  _ dramatic _ .

“I said,” Mark responded without even blinking once, “ _ I’m. Not. Performing. _ ” He tilted his head and offered Haechan a plastic smile. “Did you hear me  _ that  _ time?”

“Are you hearing yourself, dumbass?” Haechan retorted. “My grade isn’t about to be affected because you have issues you can’t deal with at home.”

Mark shrugged. “Well, like I said.”

Haechan didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to act or react. He kept clenching his fists and unclenching them. Haechan thought about calling him out in front of everyone, but that would mean revealing what had happened to everyone and quite frankly, that was nobody’s business. With that in mind, he bit his tongue before he said something that would prompt Mark to spill the beans himself. He probably didn’t have anything else to lose at this point aside from his grade and dignity.

Doyoung looked at the clock. There were fifteen minutes left before their class was officially over but it was the end of the day and it didn’t really matter if they ended early.

“Go home, everyone,” Doyoung’s shrill voice suddenly said, cutting through the tension like a knife. “ _ Leave now _ ,” he repeated, tone icy, worse than Mark’s and Haechan’s combined. That really got his students scrambling.

At least Mark and Haechan were smart enough to know that the order wasn’t directed at them. Mark stayed put in his seat. Haechan stayed put on the stage. Doyoung wanted to scream at them honestly. Mondays already sucked but this was not how he saw his day progressing.

“Look,” Doyoung started, tired eyes switching between them, “you two are best friends. Talented and incredible actors. Some of my favorites. And together, you guys can really move a mountain on the stage. So, what in the hell has gotten into you two over the weekend that is so big that you guys couldn’t leave it at the door when you came in here?”

Doyoung took turns glaring at the two. Both were silent. Mark’s eyes were trained on the ground and Haechan, arms crossed, seemed like he was already done. Of course, he ended up speaking first.

“I may not be able to leave all of my issues at the door, but my issues aren’t relevant when it’s time to get on stage. ‘Lee Donghyuck’ doesn’t exist on this stage. My problems are whatever problems the characters I’m playing have,” Haechan said. He jabbed a finger in the direction of Mark. “ _ He _ is the one who hasn’t learned that lesson apparently so you can stop glaring at me, Mr. Doyoung, because at the end of the day—literally—I’m the one who’s up here. Who's missing from the picture?”

Mark stood up, swinging his bag over his shoulder. He turned into the aisle and began walking up.

“Where are you going, Mark Lee? We’re not done here,” Doyoung called..

Mark spun around, face twisted red in anger. The sight made Haechan’s heart lurch but he wasn’t in the wrong so he wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty, no matter what.

“With all due respect, Mr. Doyoung, maybe you didn’t hear me the first _two times I said it_ so I’ll say it _a_ _third_. I am not performing. That isn’t exclusive to today, either, sir. Even if I wake up the happiest man in the world tomorrow, I’m still not performing. Like, _ever_. So, in the sense, I guess _we_ _are_ done here. For good.”

The auditorium door slammed shut after Mark and the sound made Haechan flinch.

“Well if he doesn’t have to stay here, neither do I,” Haechan growled, hopping off the ledge and grabbing his bag. “I can go through the script with you tomorrow by myself if that’s okay. I know all my lines,” Haechan said.

Doyoung stopped Haechan. “Donghyuck, look at me.”

Haechan looked up slowly, eyes glistening and threatening to spill over. Doyoung frowned and surprisingly, the younger pulled him into a hug.

“What the hell happened between you two?” Doyoung asked again. 

Both of their moms had been close friends and so, growing up, Doyoung was often tasked with babysitting Donghyuck. The age gap between them didn’t really hinder their relationship, though, as they both considered each other as siblings.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

It pained Doyoung to see Haechan fighting with his best friend of nearly a decade because there were times where Doyoung had babysat Mark, too, as much as they had been together. He had to know what was happening between them so he could try somehow to repair it.

“S’okay, Doyoung. You don’t have to worry about it,” Haechan said, sniffling. “Can you give me a ride home though? I don’t feel like riding the bus today.” 

“Sure thing,” Doyoung said. It was the least he could do. “Wait here. I’ll go get my keys.”

As soon as Haechan opened the front door, he called out to see if his mom was home. _ She wasn’t _ . He then crawled under his mom’s comforter and cried himself to sleep. Being in his own room reminded him of too many things—too much of a certain somebody—that he needed to forget. _ For good _ , as  _ he  _ so eloquently put it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***officially up-to-date with old posts from tumblr...


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